The Noblewoman of Evil
by VividSea
Summary: There are things that only a woman will ever learn. Lady Adelia, an Aristocrat of Evil, is Earl Vincent's eyes and ears. She's knows every bit of gossip shared to her during parties and every piece of information people speak around her when they think no one is listening. Lady Adelia holds the chess pieces, but it is the Queen's Watchdog who sets the game. (Canon Pairings)


**Chapter One: The Lady, Scandalous**

Angelina Dalles twisted the ends of her red hair, teeth biting into her lower lip as her eyes darted across the well-lit room. _He_ had called her red hair beautiful, but surely he wouldn't find it beautiful as a dress. She didn't know what she had been thinking- wearing a red dress to a party that was a vibrant as her hair. She looked ridiculous.

"You shouldn't be doing that to your hair. It gives you split-ends," chided a woman. She wore an elegant light blue ball gown with ribbons that matched her elaborate hat that almost hid her bound blonde hair. The woman wore something appropriate for the party, unlike herself and her hideous red.

"Stand up straighter," said the woman with a smile, dark brown eyes curving up with it. "You look beautiful tonight."

Angelina was surprised. Besides Vincent and her sister Rachel, the woman was the only one to compliment her looks. "I… do you think so?" she asked. Angelina consciously brought down her hand to clasp her fingers together in front of her.

The woman rested a gloved hand on Angelina's shoulder. "Of course. Now you must be Angelina Dalles, Baron Dalles's daughter." She winked. "His daughters are always said to be very beautiful. I can tell that it's not just rumors. It's a pleasure to meet you. I am Viscountess Adelia Blackwell."

Angelina swallowed nervously. She should have known. Adelia Blackwell was well known for always being at the tip of the latest fashion and gossip, a lady of ladies, one could say.

Adelia looked around, eyes scanning the crowd. "I came with my husband but it seems that he's left to chat with some of his old friends. Clyford always does this." Adelia's eyes lit up and Angelina looked in the direction that the woman faced.

It was Vincent, chatting with Baron Diedrich, the man who had hosted the party. If Adelia wasn't already married, Angelina would have believed that she had her eyes on him.

"Well I just spotted someone that I desperately need to talk to," said Adelia, as she clasped Angelina's hands in her own. "When I'm done, we can talk about your dress. It's absolutely stunning and you simply must tell me who you had design it."

Adelia, in all her grace and beauty, walked to Vincent and Baron Diedrich and Angelina could never have guessed that there was something dark and sinister underneath that smile, for Adelia Blackwell as an Aristocrat of Evil and her hands were stained blacker than the sins of man.

* * *

The room was dark, far darker than the bright ballroom that held the watchful eyes of others and the listening ears of intruders. Little candles decorated the walls and a billiards table sat in the middle of it, a game already in session.

Adelia reclined in one of the chairs, fanning her face lazily even though the room was in no way hot or stuffy at all. The Earl hefted up a cue stick and positioned it between his fingers, his family ring resting neatly beneath it.

He glanced to Adelia, who pretended not to notice him. "I saw you with Ann in the corner of the room. What were you two conversing about? She looked absolutely stunned. Albeit rather… she almost looked terrified."

Adelia scoffed, her fan abruptly closing with a loud clasp of wood hitting wood. "Don't be rude. She was only nervous about her choice of dress, something that you clearly had an influence on." She looked at him in the eye, the corners of her lips turned down. "Honestly, she's been looking at you the entire night. When this meeting is over, you better be a gentleman and tell her that she looks beautiful!"

Chlaus, who had been quietly conversing with Diedrich to the side, laughed boisterously. "You should try to get on her good side, Vincent. Did you not want her to investigate the Swan Entertainment Hall?"

Vincent set the cue stick down. "I'll be sure to tell Ann that she looks beautiful tonight. Now will you be willing to act as my little spy once again?"

He had said it in such a demeaning tone that Adelia found herself questioning why she bothered to be in his company at all. "To think that I'm the servant of a dog like you. But very well. I'll look into it."

After all, she wasn't included in their little secret meetings for nothing.

* * *

Upon returning to their mansion, Adelia's husband left to go to his study. Viscount Clyford Blackwell was more of a scholar than a nobleman and often found himself in the company of books instead of his own wife, which was fine with Adelia, who found that there were plenty of things to do at night besides sleeping, such as collecting information about a certain entertainment hall.

The Swan Entertainment Hall was well known in society as a place to enjoy dinner while listening to some of the best musicians play.

There were also rumors that the hall had a secret room at the back where the hall's owner, Baron Emmitt Flite, entertained his own personal guests.

Adelia had the pleasure of meeting Baron Flite's wife, Kathleen, once.

Baroness Kathleen Flite was a woman whose figure was desired by many. With a thin waist and a beautiful complexion, Lady Kathleen had looks that had always made Adelia feel like a dying weed being compared to a flowering rose. In fact, Kathleen might have been more popular than Adelia if it wasn't for the lady's running mouth. She was a terrible gossip and the entire court knew it.

It was because of this that Adelia knew that Lord Flite has been making it a habit of spending late nights at the Swan Entertainment Hall, leaving his wife to spend her nights alone. After constantly being in Lady Kathleen's company at social parties and hearing her drone on and on about having to sleep in an empty bed without her 'lovingly handsome husband by her side', Adelia was ready to discover something big enough to shut up Kathleen's mouth for good.

Lady Adelia Blackwell was a character in of itself. She was known for wearing feathered hats and for having the latest fashionable dresses, as well as always having a fan in hand.

It was a simple thing to change into a dress from last season and to walk out of the mansion without her hat or her fan in sight. By wearing a dark brown wig, donning a French accent, and painting on a tint of makeup that one would never see on Lady Adelia's face, Lady Blackwell soon became Lady Roussillon, a French noblewoman visiting her English fiancé.

It wasn't hard to gain access into the Swan Entertainment Hall. Lady Roussillon was a character created for the Watchdog. It only required Queen Victoria to spread the rumors that a distant nephew of hers was engaged to a French woman of the Roussillon family to tie up all the loose ends.

With a mere mention of her royal husband-to-be, waiters scrambled to clear a table for her. It took three songs from the band and a bouillon that soon became cold for Lord Flite to approach her.

"Ah Lady Roussillon. What an honor it is for you to be visiting my entertainment hall. What brings you here? The music? The food? Perhaps… something else?"

"My fiancé vecommended the hall to the north of here to me, but my friends in society said that the Swan Entertainment Hall had something… extra that made things a vit more interesting than just music and food." She said this with a wink, playing on the infamous manners that French noblewomen seemed to lack in common London society.

Lord Flite stuttered nervously, a faint pink blush dusting his cheeks and coating the tips of his ears. "I… the Swan Entertainment Hall does offer more than just music and food, Lady Roussillon. But do tell me, what exactly are you looking for?"

She picks up the cup of tea and gently rocks the liquid in it back and forth. "The English vike their tea strong and foul. I am French and this simply does not suit my tastes. But a good cup of wine trumps any cup of tea, just like how a good gamble is more enjoyed by the French than the English."

Lord Flite's eyes brighten at the word 'gamble'. "Ah if it's a gambling hall you seek, m'lady, then it's a gambling hall I shall provide. I take it that you heard about it from your friends? I didn't think that such a thing would be enjoyed by frail women of the court."

Adelia chuckled before setting the cup of tea down distastefully. It was a cup of Irish Breakfast, one of her favorites, but French noblewoman Lady Roussillon did not like English tea, so it remained cold and untouched. "You vorget that I am French. I am not like your fragile English ladies who hide vehind fans."

"Of course, my mistake," he said easily, holding out his hand to help her up. "Then shall I lead you to the hall, Lady Roussillon?"

She takes his hand in her gloved one. "Of course. Let's see what the English can do to impress the French."

Adelia is led to through a winding corridor, down a staircase into a basement leveled room. They stopped in front of a wooden door, unassuming to the other doors that they had passed. Lord Flite pauses before pulling out a porcelain mask from behind one of the many curtains decorating the windowless room.

He hands it to her, its white face painted with silvers and golds. It looked like it made for one of those fancy masquerade balls that some royal would hold to celebrate the coming of summer. "You'll need it, lest you want the other patrons to know that the Royal Family's future member likes to dirty her hands."

She takes it and puts it on, feeling strange to have to wear a mask when she was already wearing one to begin with.

When the door opens, Adelia is expecting rich red carpets and the loud laughter of men enjoying a good time. Perhaps a few women dressed scantily and maybe alcohol being passed around. Instead, she is greeted by the strong stench of musk and decay along with the distant cheering of men that only seemed to get stronger as they walked down the hallways.

Eventually, she found the source. It was a large dug out pit where two men, both bloodied and tired, were brawling in the middle. One of them had a cut on his bare chest, the red angry line bleeding with every sudden movement he made. The other swung a knife with such ferocity that it reminded Adelia of a savage wild dog. Men, all masked, surrounded the pit on a higher level, cheering on the bloodshed that was slowly forming in front of them.

Adelia stiffened, quickly realizing what exactly was going on. The hall didn't gamble money.

It gambled lives.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! If there were any mistakes, grammar or characterization-wise, please PM me to let me know.**

 **As a note, Queen Victoria highly discouraged the use of make-up, which was why Adelia's use of it would be so strange for the proper lady of the English noble society. Make-up was often used by actresses and prostitutes, women who were often shunned by proper society.**

 **The French and the English had a lot of differences. If I'm correctly informed, French women were better educated in politics and other topics of conversation that made them stand out more from the boring English women who were only educated in basic schooling, as they were more trained to be housewives than conversationalists. It was only because English men started to fancy French women instead of English women, did English women start to educate themselves more. (It's probably not historically accurate to have French women seem less mannered than the English, but as this is Black Butler- a world with chainsaws, demons, and grim reapers, I hope you'll forgive me about this small tweak.)**

 **I based Adelia's characterization off of Lady Marguerite Blakeney, the main character of the novel, The Scarlet Pimpernel, and this story was created to tell the tale of that mysterious woman who was an Aristocrat of Evil during both Vincent and Ciel's time.**


End file.
